My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie The explosions within him soon erupted from his throat, cascading into the air above his head. They were small explosions, sort of like mini fireworks - pink and red and gold and green and blues of all hues and shades and spectrums. They popped out from between Bobby's lips in whistling, fiery streamers, leaving him to cough up smoke and ash in the brief aftermath before the pyrotechnics started again. The whole display, oddly enough, wasn't very painful. It was sort of like he had a bad sore throat - congested sinuses and some scratchiness. When the explosions began, it was like heavy coughing that strained his ribs but didn't set his tongue on fire. Therefore, Bobby only could assume one thing: The Lung Elf family was at it again, causing fanfare in his chest for the night. What he didn't know specifically was that it was Amber McPharynx's 27th birthday - which meant that she had been born when Bobby was eight, when he had begun to feel th

There was a sacrifice of the conscience earlier today when a drunken man stumbled his way over to some railroad tracks and decided to sleep there for the night. When he woke up and found that his legs had been removed from the knees down, he sought out the very train that was responsible. His conscience had become comatose the night before, so it was not there to warn him of the consequences of facing down a full-sized Amtrak until he was flying in three pieces across town.